


Flashback

by schizoqueer



Category: Orbiting Human Circus of the Air (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Phonetic Accent, Be Nice To Julian, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Cameron is a Jackass, Julian is Autistic and You Can Fight Me, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Narrator as The Voice of Reason, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9805169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoqueer/pseuds/schizoqueer
Summary: Julian makes a big mistake. John loses his temper. Leticia helps save the day.Mild spoilers for episodes four and seven. I recommend finishing the season before reading.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with the intention of making it sound like an actual episode, which was an interesting exercise in not using any dialogue tags. This is my first story for the OHC fandom; be gentle. Italics are the Narrator.

_High up above the City of Lights, very late at night, after the show has ended and the crowds have departed, we take you now backstage in the broadcast ballroom of the Orbiting Human Circus, where Julian, janitor at the Eiffel Tower, hides and waits. Here comes chief stagehand Leticia Saltier, and Jacques—_

“Jacques, I am telling you, you cannot keep lifting zese ‘eavy boxes without un ‘andtruck, you are going to ‘urt yourself and I will not be responsible for your injury.”

“I got it, Leticia; and you know I’m stronger than you think I am.”

“Ha!”

_Their footsteps recede down the hall, and the janitor peeks out from behind the curtain where he hides before creeping on stage as quietly as he can manage, unplugging the broadcast microphone, and stealing away into the night. He gets into the freight elevator and waits inside until he reaches the street below. The streets are empty and lined with yellow incandescent lights, like stars on earth. Julian walks cautiously, so as not to drop the microphone, but quickly, aware that the time he has with the microphone is slipping away from him, and makes his way down to the Seine. It is there that his aluminum rowboat, abandoned some weeks ago by an unknown person, is hidden beneath a bridge. And it is to this boat that Julian sometimes comes, to practice speaking into the microphone._

_He pushes the boat into the water, places the microphone gently inside, and climbs aboard. He rows out into the river, sits up, and begins to speak, to you, the audience._

“Gosh, it’s pretty cold out here, huh. I mean it’s still winter, I guess it makes sense. Um, anyways. I wanted to tell you all a new story, that I’ve been practicing a lot. Um, although, I guess you would have heard it already. I—“

 _Suddenly the janitor is cut off as a swan suddenly flies low past him. He jumps, startled, and the boat rocks wildly beneath him! He tries desperately to keep it under control, but the rowboat capsizes, tossing Julian_ and _the broadcast microphone into the Seine! He sputters in the freezing water and realizes that the microphone is sinking, fast. Diving into the dark water, he reaches out… and catches the microphone just before it gets out of reach! He bobs up to the surface, gasping for breath and already chilled to the bone, and paddles as fast as he can to the shore, dragging himself onto the muddy riverbank. The microphone… it’s ruined._

“Oh no. Oh no, oh no. What am I going to do?”

_I, I don’t know. But you’re going to freeze if you don’t get indoors soon._

“R-right. Right.”

_The janitor shivers in the late winter air, his soaked clothes already beginning to stiffen with ice. He stumbles to his feet, clutching the dripping microphone in his hands, and begins to make his way back towards the Eiffel Tower._

_By the time he returns, the sun is already beginning to tint the horizon purple and pink, and Julian’s teeth are chattering so hard he worries he might bite off his own tongue. He staggers into the freight elevator and, as it takes him up to the top, he worries._

“H-how am I going t-to explain this to L-Leticia? Oh god, sh-she’s going to k-kill me. What is M-Mr. C-Cameron going to s-say? How am I g-going to get d-dry?”

_These are the questions the janitor asks himself as the elevator rises into the tower. As the doors open, he peers around each corner and finds no one. Walking as quickly as his frozen muscles and icy clothes will allow, Julian goes onto stage and puts the microphone back where he found it before going to find the station shower backstage. He walks in and, fully clothed, turns the water on as hot as it will go. But of course, Julian, you know it’s only a matter of time before Leticia or one of the stagehands hears the pipes knocking and comes looking for you._

“I know.”

_And so, nose still red and running from the cold, Julian stands in the shower, trying to warm up as he washes the river water out of his hair and clothes. Sure enough, minutes later, Julian hears Jacques walk past the door to the station shower._

“What the-? Where’d these footprints come from? Why’s the shower on? Hey, Leticia!”

“I am coming, sacré bleu! What iz it, Jacques?”

“There’s a bunch of muddy footprints out here, smells like a wet dog. And the shower’s runnin’. The footprints lead onto the stage too, I think. Hang on.”

_Julian listens to all this, holding his breath. He hears Jacques walk off, and there is silence while Leticia waits for him. Moments later, Jacques returns, carrying the broadcast microphone in his hands._

“Oh, mon dieu, what is zhis? The microphone, it iz ruined! Who could have done zhis?”

“I think I know.”

_The pair look towards the station shower where Julian hides, and he knows he must come out and face the consequences. The janitor turns the shower off, wrings out his shirt a little, and steps out into the hallway, where stand Leticia and Jacques, both obviously shocked at the sight of the wet, still-frozen Julian. Leticia storms up to him, holding the microphone in a raised fist._

“You! What ‘ave you done to ze microphone?”

“Leticia, I can explain, I was at the river, and—”

“Oh, so you thought zat you could just take ze microphone and go for a swim, non?”

“No it’s not like that, please—”

“I am telling John as soon as ‘e gets in today, ‘e is going to let you ‘ave it! Go, get changed and mop up your mess, we will let John deal with zhis as soon as ‘e arrives. Go!”

_Julian, trembling, disappears down the hall. He arrives at the janitor’s closet, and begins to change out of his wet clothes and hang them up to dry next to the saws on the wall._

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. If she would have just let me explain, I—I don’t know. Oh, Mr. Cameron’s going to be so mad at me.”

_Now in his dry work clothes, Julian exits the closet with his mop and bucket and walks off to mop where he had left footprints and puddles of river water on the floor. His hands are almost blue, and he’s still trembling from the cold, hair sending rivulets of icy water down his back. As he mops, he hears the main elevator open from around the corner and the footsteps of none other than host John Cameron as he arrives for the day at the station. Julian listens with a pit in his stomach as Leticia appears to tell John what has happened._

“John, I ‘ave to talk to you. It iz ze janitor, ‘e has ruined ze broadcast microphone. We are lucky zhat we ‘ave a spare but—”

“What?! Where is he?”

_But before waiting for an answer, John Cameron storms off in search of Julian. He rounds the corner and sees the janitor, sheepishly mopping the floor near the station shower._

“You!”

_John strides down the hallway, livid, and Julian backs into a corner as he approaches._

“Wait, Mr. Cameron, please, I can explain!”

“You have no explaining to do! Do you realize what you’ve done?”

_John Cameron reaches Julian, grabs his shoulder hard, and pulls back his right hand to strike Julian across the face! Julian’s eyes widen and he suddenly feels like a little boy again as he bursts into tears._

“No, please, Mr. Cameron, please please don’t hit me please I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

_The janitor crumples to the floor in a heap, sobbing helplessly. He has wrapped his arms around his head and face to protect himself, much like a young child would in self-defense. He trembles violently at John Cameron’s feet, weeping and begging incoherently as he had before his own step-father so many years before._

“Please don’t hit me again, please I’m sorry, I can do better, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

_John stares down at the man suddenly reduced to a child at his feet. He lowers his hand, struck by the janitor’s abject desperation. He looks around, realizing that he has drawn a small crowd including Leticia and the assorted stagehands at the Eiffel Tower. His face darkens, and he walks away, leaving Julian in the corner, who is crying so hard that his sobs have gone silent. The other stagehands disappear as well, discomfort and pity clear on their faces as they walk off to their various jobs, leaving Julian alone._

_Julian? Are you… alright?_

“…”

_You’re safe now. No one is going to try to hurt you. Mr. Cameron didn’t mean it. You know how he can be. He just… cares so much about the show._

“…”

_I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say._

“…’S not your fault. My fault.”

_What is?_

“Mr. Cameron hates me. Everyone hates me. This is my fault. I ruined the show, this is my fault, I always ruin everything, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

_Come now, it’s alright. They don’t all hate you. The show will go on, you heard Leticia. They have a spare microphone. Things will be okay._

“No they won’t! I’m horrible! I shouldn’t be here! I ruin everything!” _The janitor is still crying, his face puffy and red, his arms still covering his face as he sits curled up on the floor, rocking quietly back and forth. He removes his arms from his face and begins to—Wait! Julian, please don’t hit yourself, please! Stop! Stop…_

“Nothing is going to be okay.”

*****

_Elsewhere in the Eiffel Tower, host John Cameron sits seething in his dressing room, trying desperately to calm himself down. He grits his teeth, clenches his fists, tries to breathe deeply, and leans back in a chair with a heavy, frustrated sigh. Just then, chief stagehand Leticia Saltier appears at his door unannounced._

“John, I ‘ave to talk to you.”

“Alright, come on in. Sit down.”

“Thank you. Er, I came to ask you about somezhing Julian said when… before. Earlier.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“…John, ‘ave you _hit_ ze janitor before?”

“No! No, of course I haven’t. I—I don’t know why I did that. I lost my temper.”

“Of course, I was just wondering, because ‘e said somezhing before… ‘e said ‘Please don’t ‘it me _again_ ,’ and naturally I was curious about what zat… meant.”

“Oh, yes. I’m not sure… I don’t know why he would say that.”

_Leticia and John Cameron look hard at each other, and each considers the way Julian had changed suddenly, cowering like a child before John, the way he had always reacted to being touched—and it becomes clear._

“Oh.”

_A look of guilt crosses John’s face like a cloud passing in front of the sun. Leticia looks awkwardly down at her feet._

“Well zhen. I ‘ave work to do, I will see you later, before ze show, yes? D’accord.”

_Leticia departs, leaving John Cameron alone with his thoughts. His anger drained from his body, he sits quietly and thinks about the coming show that evening. They have a spare microphone, of course; what kind of self-respecting radio station would they be without spare equipment? And John concludes that he may have overreacted. But then, he reasons, so did the janitor. And so John Cameron decides that everything will be fine, and that Julian the janitor will eventually get over it, and continue with business as usual._

*****

_Later that day, as the show is getting ready to start, we find Julian, janitor at the Eiffel Tower, hiding in his closet, all alone. Even the singing saws have gone, to prepare for their performance in tonight’s show. He is still damp and cold from the morning, and his visible skin is covered in goosebumps. Julian?_

“ ‘M fine.”

_Are you… going to try and watch the show tonight?_

“No.”

_Would you like to talk?_

“…No.”

_That’s alright. We take you now to the broadcast ballroom, where the orkestrel is beginning to play the opening music of the night’s show to thunderous applause. Host John Cameron appears on stage, smiling broadly, and walks up to the replacement microphone center stage._

“Thank you, thank you ladies and gentlemen. We have a wonderful show lined up for you tonight, I hope you’re all excited!” _The crowd applauds again._ “Excellent! Then I’m pleased to welcome to the stage our brand-new act, a small performer with a startlingly big voice: the Operatic Flea! Let’s give him a hand folks!”

_And so the show goes on, without a hitch and with no janitor in sight. Between acts, Mr. Cameron casts glances offstage to Leticia Saltier and the other stagehands, who all shrug at him, indicating the absence of Julian the janitor. As the orkestrel plays the ending music, and as John Cameron wishes us all a good night, he leaves the stage for the evening and locks eyes with Leticia._

“Do not look at me zat way, I swear I ‘ave not seen ze janitor all night.”

“What do you think he’s doing?”

“ ‘iding from you, if I ‘ad to take a guess. Do not make zat face! The guy is scared of you, you saw ‘im yourself! Mon dieu, you can be so thick sometimes, I swear…”

_Leticia trails off as she leaves to begin breaking down the set from that evening, leaving John Cameron standing in the wings. He speaks aloud, under his breath,_

“Well. At least he left us alone for one night. Hopefully more, if I scared him that badly.”

_John chuckles quietly and disappears into his dressing room down the hall to get his coat, before leaving the Eiffel Tower for the evening. Before long, the entire station is empty aside from Coco, the elderly night watchman of the Eiffel Tower, and Julian lies awake in his cot, woken again just recently from a nightmare. He is crying again, softer now, into the pile of clean rags he uses for a pillow. Julian? Would you like to talk about it?_

“It’s nothing. Just another dream about my step-father.”

_I see._

“I’ve decided. I’m not going to bother Mr. Cameron anymore. I’ll just leave everyone alone and clean and that’s all, and everything will be okay, and no one will hate me anymore if I just stay away.”

_Are you… are you sure? What about the acts?_

“They’ll find acts on their own, they don’t need me. Nobody needs me. I’m just the janitor.”

_And with this, he rolls over, and falls asleep._

*****

_In two weeks’ time, we return to the station here at the top of the Eiffel Tower, where things haven’t felt quite right. Julian the janitor has been unusually hard at work cleaning around the station and tower, although he refuses to make eye contact with anyone or speak unless spoken to. In the early afternoon on the day of a show, our janitor is mopping near the main elevator when the doors slide open, and out steps host John Cameron! As Mr. Cameron walks past, Julian visibly flinches, which does not go unnoticed by John himself. John looks fleetingly guilty before walking to his dressing room, where chief stagehand Leticia Saltier has been waiting to meet him._

“Oh, finally, you are here. I need to talk to you, it iz about ze janitor.”

“Again? Leticia, can’t it wait? I need to rehearse for tonight.”

“No, it is a conversation that needs to ‘appen and you know it. The show ‘as been suffering lately. Somezhing feels off about every performance. You ‘ave noticed, yes?”

“Yes. Yes I have. And… you think this has to do with the janitor.”

“I do, I think ‘e iz scared of you. I ‘ave seen ‘im flinch when you go near ‘im, I am not blind. Ze janitor ‘as not been trying to ruin ze show, and I think zat is why ze show ‘as suffered.”

“You don’t think it’s been quieter? He’s a nuisance, god knows you’ve said it yourself. As long as he stays out of my way, I don’t really care what the janitor does or doesn’t do.”

“Okay, suit yourself, but I think zat either way you should apologize to ‘im. It iz ze right thing to do. I’ll leave you to your business, but make zhis show a good one; ze audience ‘as been so thin recently.”

_With that, Leticia Saltier leaves John Cameron alone in his dressing room. It is only now, after this conversation, that John realizes what has changed. There hasn’t been a new act in two weeks. And although he would never admit it to anyone, John Cameron knows exactly why not. He has frightened away his supplier._

_Away from the broadcast ballroom, mopping a freezing catwalk on the exterior of the tower, is Julian, janitor at the Eiffel Tower. Teeth chattering in the February cold without even a winter coat, high in the air, his blue hands wrapped around the handle of a mop, Julian is not daydreaming, nor singing, nor speaking to his audience, but simply cleaning._

“Don’t distract me; I’m trying to do better about cleaning instead of talking to you.”

_But… you like talking to me. You like having the audience here, with you._

“Yeah, I know, but if I just do my work and keep my head down, no one will hate me anymore. Thinking about the audience always makes me want to perform, which invariably leads to me trying to get on stage, which I won’t do anymore. I give up.”

_Julian. I think you’re making a decision that you’re going to regret. The show can’t go on without you. They need you._

“No, they don’t! I’ve told you, they don’t need me here ruining the show. I just want to do my job and be serious for once. Can’t you just give me that?”

_Tears have formed in the janitor’s eyes, although if they are from the wind or his own emotions I can’t say for sure. He continues mopping in silence._

_Later that evening, after the show has ended and the audience has departed, Julian takes the small canvas bag containing all of his clothes, a handful of coins he has been collecting, and departs for the laundromat down the street. He takes the main elevator rather than the freight elevator this time, although he could not say why. As the janitor enters the elevator and presses the button for the ground floor, John Cameron appears._

“Hold the door!”

_John jogs into the elevator before the doors shut, leaving him alone inside with Julian, who is looking noticeably grey. Julian’s heart beats hard in his throat, and he stares down at his shoes as John Cameron attempts to make friendly conversation._

“Julian. How’ve you been?”

“…Fine.”

“The, ah. The station has been looking particularly spotless lately.”

“…”

_Mr. Cameron goes silent. He looks the janitor up and down, noting the way he has folded his shoulders in and clutched his laundry to his chest. The elevator is silent until they reach the bottom, when Julian exits first and disappears into the night, with John Cameron watching him._

“Well, that didn’t work.”

*****

                _Another night passes at the Eiffel Tower and the next day is business as usual. Chief stagehand Leticia Saltier and her right-hand men Jacques and Pierre are building the set for the evening’s show, host John Cameron is doing paperwork and preparing the acts for the show in his dressing room, and Julian the janitor is diligently mopping the floors of the station. As the janitor mops around the wings of the stage, a door down the hall opens and out walks John Cameron. He makes his way towards the stage, coming towards the janitor, who has his back turned. Suddenly, Julian is aware of a presence behind him, and as he turns to see Mr. Cameron coming towards him, he jumps, startled, and drops his mop!_

“Oh, um, I’m sorry…”

                “It’s alright. Here.”

                _And as he speaks, John Cameron stoops down to the floor, picks up the janitor’s mop, and hands it back to him. He looks at Julian for a moment, then walks away to find Leticia. The janitor is shaking, his knuckles white from the grip on his mop, almost breathless. Julian?_

“He didn’t yell at me.”

                _I saw that. Do you still think he hates you?_

“…I don’t know.”

                _Nearby, out of the janitor’s earshot, John Cameron accosts Leticia Saltier as she works backstage on the evening’s set._

“Leticia, may I speak with you?”

                “Of course; Jacques, Pierre, go… do somezhing else for a minute, okay? Allez. Okay, John, what iz it you need to talk about?”

                “I need to ask you a favor.”

                “Oh, do you?”

                “Yes. If you could, I’d like it if you would let the janitor push the tape player with the feature presentation onto the stage at the show tonight.”

                _Leticia gives John an odd look, first of surprise, and then of comprehension._

“Okay. I can make zat ‘appen. Do not worry about ze rest, I will take care of it.”

                “Thank you.”

                _And with that, John Cameron disappears._

*****

                _That night, as the audience applauds the final act of the evening in the broadcast ballroom of the Orbiting Human Circus, Julian the janitor has made himself scarce, and sits alone in the unheated closet in which he lives. He is staring, unfocused, into the darkness of the closet when suddenly there is a pounding on the door, and he jumps!_

“JULIAN!”

                _It’s Leticia Saltier! But what could she want? The janitor stands and opens the door._

“Come with me, I need your ‘elp. I cannot find Jacques or Pierre, and I need someone to push the machine with ze feature presentation onto ze stage.”

                “You… can’t do it yourself?”

                “Of course not, I would never go on zat stage, ze crowd makes me nervous. Now come with me.”

                _Leticia turns and stalks off down the hallway, and after hesitating a moment, Julian follows quickly after her, trying desperately to keep up with her long strides. They arrive backstage, to the right of the stage, and Leticia turns to Julian again, whispering._

“Okay, just push ze machine onto ze stage, and zhen leave. Zat iz all. Now go, it iz time!”

                _Julian nods obediently, then puts his hands on the enormous tape machine and begins to push it onto the stage. As he passes beyond the velvet curtain to where the bright, hot lights beat down upon the stage, the janitor’s heart pounds in his chest. The thrill of being on stage once again fills him immediately with an indescribable joy. As he reaches center stage, Julian looks up to see host John Cameron, smiling at him._

“Alright Julian, just leave it there, thank you. And now, ladies and gentlemen, we bring you tonight’s feature presentation.”

                _At that, John Cameron presses ‘play’ on the machine and departs the stage to loud applause, with Julian following not too closely on his heels. Once in the darkness beyond the curtain, John turns back to face Julian, whose cheeks are still flushed from the rush of being in front of the audience again. John whispers._

“Thank you for that.”

                _And with that, he pats the janitor gently on the shoulder, and walks away. Julian stands frozen in place, almost starstruck, before coming to his senses and hurrying back to his cot in the janitor’s closet. He sits abruptly on the small bed, clasping his hands over his chest._

“Mr. Cameron… thanked me. And Leticia said that—that she needed me. Do you think that—does this mean that… maybe they don’t hate me anymore?”

                _I think that may very well be. …Julian?_

“I think… maybe everything is going to be okay.”


End file.
